


Defeated

by Decent_Arrow78



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Post-Episode: s06e09 Battle of the Bastards, Psychological Torture, Threats, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 10:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decent_Arrow78/pseuds/Decent_Arrow78
Summary: Jon lost the battle of the bastards and has to live in Ramsay's dungeon.





	Defeated

"Oh no. That looks terrible." Ramsay put on a _concerned_ face and tilted his head to observe his defeated captive. A long arrow was stuck in Jon's thigh and it looked quite painful. If only the dim crow hadn't decided to attack Ramsay. He failed pretty much and cried out in pain when the object pierced his thigh. Why didn't he listen to his sister? The Bolton has set traps everywhere and Jon managed to step into one completely voluntarily, at least it seemed like it. "Come, let me see." 

Jon hissed and cringed in disgust when Ramsay's gloved hand drew closer, hovering over the arrow. He sat in a kind of dungeon with his hands bound behind his back tightly, just as his enemy liked it. So tight that it felt like it crushed his wrists. Ramsay took note of his defensive behaviour and enjoyed it thoroughly. The frustrated ones were his favourites. Jon felt Ramsay's hand on his thigh, just below the wound. He despised his touch and shifted around, clearly showing his misery. "You are lucky. I almost shot you twice. That would have been quite messy." He laughed lightly and relished the crow's distress. 

Jon lost the battle thanks to his unwillingness to control his emotions. Ramsay had it planned out perfectly. He got the little, rebellious bastard nicely tied up which was humiliating enough for him. With that thing stuck in his leg, he couldn't contain squirming around when Ramsay would touch the thigh intentionally. "It hurts, doesn't it? Defeated at your enemy's feet. Unable to hide with your wildling friends." Jon has to agree there, the humiliation was far worse than the pain in his leg. Ramsay noticed his growing agony. "That tiny army of yours was a waste. How do you feel about that? Knowing that you let your loyal wildlings be crushed and lost afterwards? I imagine it to be very frustrating." 

Jon forced himself to be quiet although he wanted to scream so many things at this man. If he would, it will only give him the satisfaction he craved. But Ramsay was not stupid, he knew what Jon was exactly trying to prevent. It won't last for long. "No? You don't want to say anything? Don't worry, I will make you talk soon enough. They all do." Jon wanted to shiver after the last sentence. It was the horrible truth. "It's quite entertaining, that act of yours. You were _so_ brave before the battle. And your sister, oh your sister. My beloved Sansa thought she could kill me. Tell me, is being dim and naive a thing in your family? It appears to be." 

Jon now attempted to stand up and punch Ramsay bloody, but he soon forgot about his tied hands and ankles, and he fell right onto his face with a groan. His cheek was pressed up against the cold ground and he could see Ramsay's boots in the corner of his eye. He was pretty amused by now, Jon's actions made him laugh and chuckle way too many times. Ramsay had no interest in helping him up and preferred to place one of his boots on Jon's head.

Jon felt his cheek being practically squished against the ground while the other had to endure the weight of Ramsay. He wiggled and tried to move away, but the man above him could only sneer. "You are a pathetic excuse for a Lord Commander. Look at you. You can't even get up without my help. You are _weak_." He had the urge to squash the head beneath his boot. "Say it, bastard. Tell us what you really are. Loud, so I can hear you." Jon decided to stay silent. A mistake. Ramsay shrugged his shoulders. "Still rebellious? Don't fret, I will help you talk." With that, Ramsay turned around and went for a familiar object that was leaned against the wall. The bow.

Jon inhaled sharply and he thanked the gods that Ramsay didn't take note. He returned with the bow and some arrows, fumbling it while thinking about what he could do with this thing. He knew that Jon started to get frantic now. He bent the bow and aimed for his crotch. "Wait." There it was. Jon talked.

Ramsay smiled at the little defeat and let the arrow go through his foot. A dreadful scream escaped him, and he regretted not speaking up sooner. Ygritte once shot him three times, but Ramsay even managed to make a simple touch feel like torture. Jon had two arrows stuck in his body and Ramsay admired his work. "What? I didn't hear you." When he seemed to go for the bow a third time, Jon spoke. 

"Please, I talk, I talk. Don't shoot me please." Jon didn't sound sincere at all, he just tried to obey. Even if it was a pathetic try. Ramsay took a step forward and observed his trembling form. 

"Don't shoot me please, _what_? A bastard should possess some manners." Jon hated that word as much as he hated Ramsay. He had to obey. It was no use to fight anymore. 

"Don't shoot me please, Lord _Bolton_." He put a rather snide emphasis on the title.

"You don't sound _sincere_ , bastard. I thought that the death of your innocent brother would make you obedient. You are indeed really stupid, little Snow." Ramsay kicked Jon in the balls, _hard_. He moaned in pain and felt like he would die here. 

"You are right, you are right! Lord Bolton, I am sorry." Jon tried to say anything in order to protect himself and met a rather merciful smile. His balls hurt and his leg felt terrible. Now the part where he had to beg arrived. "Can you please take out the arrows?" Jon bit his tongue in order to hold slurs back. 

Ramsay chuckled. "You have to try a little bit harder than that." 

Jon almost exploded out of anger and gave up. He wanted those fucking arrows to disappear. "I beg you, Lord Bolton. Please take out the arrows, it hurts. Please." Ramsay clapped his hands. 

"See? So easy. Hold still." Ramsay crouched down and moved Jon's body around so he could have a better access to his thigh. He placed his knee deliberately on his crotch and earned a hiss. Ramsay took the arrow that was in the thigh and tugged, taking his time. Jon kept making sounds and noises which implied that he suffered. He moaned in pain when it was finally leaving his body, Ramsay tossed it away then moved to the ankle. The arrow was shot through the boot and his foot, and he tugged on it with force. Jon squirmed when Ramsay was done, he still felt uncomfortable on the ground. He felt like a pathetic worm.

"Done." Ramsay smiled and took his time to watch Jon. He was completely defeated. Ramsay moved around and placed his hand on his head, watching him cringe. "Shh." He hushed him and patted the hair gently. "Don't be afraid, little bastard. I won't kill you. I might get rid of your sister. After she gave me a pretty son. Maybe I won't. If you are a good boy." Jon felt like crying when Ramsay's hand kept petting him. He was not a fucking dog. 

"Please don't kill my sister. Please. You can hurt me, but leave her alone. I beg you." Jon started to get frantic at the thought of Sansa being killed or harmed. He knew that Ramsay raped her already. It made him sick. "I will be good." Ramsay was pleased by his sudden submission and caressed his cheek which made him close his eyes instantly. 

" _Good_ bastard. I am glad that you learned proper manners. But it's still up to me what happens with my beloved wife. Your begging will please me, but it won't prevent me from doing what I want to do, little crow." Ramsay's hand played with his hair again. "In fact, your sister is here at this very moment. Well, not _here with us_ , but in a nice chamber. I made it for her. She has visitors right now, so we shouldn't bother her. That would be impolite." Jon knew what he meant by those visitors, he had described it in his letters. Sansa got raped by his men and he felt a tear leaving his eye. He was too weak to save Sansa. He was too weak to save himself. He was trapped with that monster. And there was nothing he could do but suffer and wait until Ramsay's dogs would devour him.


End file.
